Like For Like
by FirstDraft
Summary: He was crazy, she is crazy. Gene compares Sam and Alex and finds his new DI is very unlike his old one – and that's a problem. Galex ONE-SHOT, set before my other story Man To Man during Series 1.


Like For Like

By

First Draft

Summary: He was crazy, she is crazy. Gene compares Sam and Alex and finds his new DI is very unlike his old one – and that's a problem.

***

It had been nearly an hour now, and the murmur of conversation outside his office had been getting progressively louder and more relaxed. Gene's own mood had improved, too and even the guilt felt less sharp than before.

Gene was used to feeling guilty: there were too many things in his life to regret - mistakes that couldn't be put right. He was used to getting angry, too but anger had never taken him by surprise like that before. He knew it was wrong as he lashed out – an improvement of sorts – but he hadn't been able to stop himself. So now he felt guilty but that was all right. He could do something about it and he would, just as soon as his pride let him. But as for the anger… and that _other_ thing…

A burst of raucous laughter behind his glass partitions made him look up. He got up and moved to the lowered blinds to peer through the small gaps. There were some worried glances in the direction of his office, but most of the attention was on Alex, who stood leaning against her desk, arms waving as she told the team a story he couldn't hear. Whatever it was, it was obviously entertaining. Shaz was listening raptuously, which was no great surprise since the WPC worshipped the ground Alex walked on. Gene couldn't blame her: Alex had, after all, saved Shaz's life and often went out of her way to include her in their investigations. Gene had to admit the girl had some brains but he didn't have the patience to look after her: Shaz was too quiet for his own taste – too Annie-like – so he was glad Alex had taken her under her wing.

There it was again. Annie… Manchester. Thinking of the old days, thinking of Sam. Then Alex. Then Sam. Alex again.

Alex…

This time the surprise was gone, and so the anger was less, and the guilt that followed was more like mild irritation. But the other feelings, the really complicated ones, rose up to the same pitch as before. He often thought about Sam; that wasn't the problem. And one thing that he had become aware of early on - and had actively welcomed - were the many similarities between his new DI and his old one.

To start with, she was crazy. Doolally. Unhinged as a pub toilet door. She kept spouting off theories and overly-educated guesses, and sneered at the very sight of Gene and his team. And then – she didn't want to be here. Really, really didn't want to be here. Kept talking about leaving, about going home, about how nothing else _really_ mattered.

So far, so Sam. It made perfect sense that somehow Alex and Sam had known each other. He tried to imagine what it would be like to see them work together. Christ, they'd have been thick as thieving peas in a pod. He snorted, enjoying the mixed metaphors. Inmates running the asylum, more like. Yeah, they'd have got on splendidly. He tried to work out just how well. Sam had been quite devoted to Annie, that couldn't be denied, but what if he'd been presented with Alex instead? Gene'd never understood what his friend had seen in Annie. He'd liked her and she was clever – and attractive – enough. But then Gene had never really understood how relationships were supposed to work, not beyond the obvious anyway. He didn't think he'd ever even been in love, whatever love was.

And now he was quoting Prince Charles. Bloody lovely.

Gene stepped away from the blinds, hands thrust in his pockets, feeling at a loss. His eyes were drawn to Sam's picture on his board, and the article about his death. Jackie Queen had done a good job on it, he had to give her that. Least she could bloody do, he thought grumpily, unwilling to contemplate the very thought of owing a journalist any more thanks than was strictly necessary.

No, he couldn't quite picture Sam and Alex together, either. Because as soon as he'd thought about it a little more, he'd realised they were actually very different. Hadn't had to think about it, actually. It had hit him in the face all by itself and quite suddenly and harder than Alex's left hook that very morning. And so he'd got angry and shouted and slammed his door and shut his blinds and came a little too close to throwing his bloody stupid con-puter out of the window.

Gene had been standing by his file cabinet, looking for an old report, when he'd looked up and caught sight of Alex talking to Ray. And Ray was listening, and talking back. Nothing particularly spectacular about it, except that it had taken years before Sam had been able to hold a normal civilised conversation with Ray, and it had only taken Alex a few months.

In fact, Alex had settled in a lot faster than Sam had. She was still doing some of the stupid things that Sam had periodically done, mostly involving going off chasing after villains on her own; that was another thing they seemed to have in common: the impression, somehow, that they floated above it all and that bullets and knives and fists didn't apply to them. But there was a fearlessness to Alex that was unique to her. Sam had been brave, there was no doubt about it, but Alex was something else. Maybe it just seemed that way because she was a woman but Gene knew instantly that wasn't it. Alex wasn't just fearless, she was reckless. For all the brains she had and the thinking she did, he'd seen her acting on instinct and pure rage more often than she would probably ever admit to. It was fine by him. He understood angry recklessness very well. Was rather comfortable with the whole concept.

That was when it had happened. That was when he'd realised how unlike Sam Alex was. She was hot-headed; that came in part and parcel with the recklessness. She was quite capable of being manipulative but Sam was more cunning. Alex didn't have the patience for cunning. When she wanted something, she wanted it now. But she could be more ruthless than Sam had ever been. She was full of the same self-righteousness and high ideals that had driven Sam, but she was better at making the tough decisions. Well, maybe 'better' wasn't the right word. But she got to that place faster than Sam ever did. Better at compromise, more willing to live with it. She understood that sometimes there was a price to pay. She was prepared to pay it.

So it wasn't just that she wasn't like Sam all that much after all. It was how like Gene she was.

No, he'd never fallen in love. Not before. He had now, and in what felt like an instant.

Gene had fancied her from the start. How couldn't he? She was gorgeous through and through: a beautiful face, long legs, some impressive curves and a really rather nice pair of tits. He didn't have any problem fancying her. He was a man, and he was used to the little groin twinges that came with having a pair of eyes and an active imagination. And she didn't find him entirely repulsive; she'd told him as much. Not that she needed to tell him. There was one night, in the early days, when they could easily have ended up in bed together. But she'd been drunk and he was her superior officer, and he'd walked away. He'd put it down to scrupules, had thought Sam would have been very proud of him, but now he wondered if, deep down, there hadn't been another reason. If, deep _deep_ down in the dark and dusty place that was his heart, he hadn't already seen what was coming and quite wisely walked away.

Well, _whatever_, as Alex was so fond of saying. That had clearly been a mistake because he wasn't likely to get another chance like that again.

He sighed. What was wrong with him? It was better this way. If they'd slept together then, he clearly wouldn't have been able to leave it there. And then he would have had to live with her rejection while being haunted with the memory of sleeping with her: talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Of all the bloody women in all the world, why did it have to be _her_? It's not just that she was crazy. All women were, fundamentally: they had to be to put up with men for millenia on end. Crazy he could put up with - ignore, even. But Alex was smart and witty and tough and brave, and far, far too good for him.

A burning sensation – not unlike being stabbed – spread across Gene's stomach. He flinched then stilled himself. There was no bloody fucking way he would let himself be reduced to a gibberish mess over a _woman_, no matter how much he wanted to just crawl under his desk and hide there for the rest of the day – anything but look at her ever again. If anything, it was all confirming things he knew already: namely, that love was stupid and the quickest shortcut to pain and misery. As he was pretty miserable most of the time, this ought to be a walk in the park.

He straightened his shoulders and went for door. He opened it so brusquely that it sent a few sheets of paper flying off Shaz's desk and now a more pleasant sensation settled across Gene as the office fell suddenly, deathly silent before he'd even opened his mouth.

"Drake – in my office. Now."

He didn't wait for a reply, or the lack of one, and turned around. He was halfway to sitting down behind his desk when he changed his mind and stood again. As he leaned back against his filing cabinet, trying to look as indifferent as Alex did, he realised she must have seen him hesitate. Sweat erupted behind his ears, making them itch, and he was glad the blinds were down and that it was pretty dark in there, because he was starting to blush, too.

"Close the door." Alex's eyes narrowed suspiciously but she complied without a word. "I'm sorry. About earlier." He'd said it quickly, the only way he knew how, before she was facing him again properly.

Alex crossed her arms. "Sorry? What for?"

Gene cleared his throat, crossed his own arms. He was the Gene Genie and he wasn't about to let a posh little bint make him sweat. Not in that way anyway –

_Focus, you PRAT._

"About losing my temper. Taking it out on the team. I'm sorry."

"I don't know what worries me most – that you should lose it like you did, or that you're apologising for it."

"Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable. How about next time I don't apologise?"

"How about next time you don't go postal? Randomly, suddenly mad," she clarified quickly as he frowned at her. "Are you all right, Guv?"

"Yep. Fine."

"People who are fine don't start shouting and swearing at their subordinates. At least not without being provoked first."

"I'm not like most people."

"You're certainly not," she agreed, and there was something softer and altogether very beguiling about the tone of her voice and the look on her face now. They stared at each other for a moment and then it was her turn to clear her throat. "I'd best get back out there, before they think you've strangled me." She paused before opening the door. "Gene? You can tell me if something's bothering you, you know. I wouldn't tell anyone. You can trust me."

_Can I?_ he wondered. Because that was something else they had in common: they didn't share much about themselves. Nothing that mattered, anyway. Gene had no idea how he knew, but he did: there were things she hid from him. Very important things. Not like what _he_ kept to himself, which was mostly a lot of very bad memories.

"I think I ate something bad," he said. "Need a word with Luigi about his fry-ups."

Alex shook her head but she was smiling, and he was forgiven; he couldn't tell whether it was a good or a bad thing. It _felt_ good, and he decided to go with that. She closed the door behind her but he still heard her tell the rest of the office he would be covering all drinks tonight.

Cheeky bloody cow, Gene thought with a smile. He sat down, at long last, and caught sight of a pile of paperwork he had to go through before the end of the day. He waited for his smile to fade, for his mood to darken, but it didn't. By the time the evening came and it was time to go across the road for the drinks that had been promised, Gene Hunt had finished all his paperwork without swearing once – another first.


End file.
